


hold me closer

by rewindmp3



Series: wipe your eyes [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, there are like...implied feelings lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 22:05:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8464723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rewindmp3/pseuds/rewindmp3
Summary: in hell, mark tuan finds a little piece of heaven in the form of im jaebum





	

**Author's Note:**

> hello it's me and im back with another markbum oneshot, much shorter and lighter than the first (well, the ending, anyways)

It’s 2012 and Mark Tuan is convinced he’s in hell.

 

Hell for Mark Tuan is the dorms, where he can hear the other trainees snicker at him behind his back when he drags his near lifeless body across the threshold of the common area after a draining day of practice. He’s not stupid and he’s certainly not 0% fluent in Korean anymore, although some of the other trainees still think he is, so he can understand when people are talking shit about him. It’s not a good feeling.

 

Hell for Mark is the company building. Because he’s a trainee, he can’t access the practice rooms meant for his debuted seniors, a constant reminder of his sad state. Whenever he goes in for practice or lessons, he sees his seniors’ legions of fangirls and boys and is reminded that he isn’t in that position yet, isn’t anywhere close based on the critiques of his teachers and the unimpressed, judging eyes of his peers.

 

Hell is the practice rooms. Mark spends the majority of his days locked up in windowless, mirror-covered rooms, so while he can’t see the freedom of the outdoors, he can see his own flaws reflected on every surface he’s surrounded by. The practice rooms are where Mark nearly breaks his body every single day, whether he’s practicing tricking or dancing or rapping until his voice is sore.

 

Hell is everywhere, because everywhere Mark turns, he’s reminded that he’s over 9500 kilometers from home, and even that measurement, kilometers, where he’s used to miles, is a reminder that he’s by himself in a foreign country. The room that he’s in here is nowhere like his one at home; the one here has bare walls and plain sheets and nothing really besides his name to indicate that any of this is his. He can only see his parents and siblings over a pixelated Skype screen and he knows he’s missing milestones in his family’s lives when his oldest sister tells him her children have begun to speak and his little brother tells him stories about school. People here say he’s quiet, but they don’t know how hyper Mark can be when he isn’t weighed down by hawk-like gazes, a language barrier, and far-fetched dreams.

 

It’s 2012 and Mark thinks he may as well be Sisyphus, pushing that boulder up a mountain in Hades, knowing the boulder will fall back down as soon as he nears the peak, yet repeating his actions over and over and over again.

 

But even in the midst of this gloomy hell, there is a spot of brightness in Mark’s life.

 

That spot of brightness goes by the name of Im Jaebum, the boy all the company’s teachers are in love with and all the trainees envy.

 

Im Jaebum is talented: he can make anything sound good with his sharp, clear voice and is one of the best dancers in the company. He’s talented, but he’s also attractive. It’s one of the first things Mark noticed, if he’s honest with himself, because really, who is Mark against Jaebum’s cutting jaw line, broad back, and penetrating gaze.

 

When Mark and Jaebum first met, it was quite awkward to say the least. Jaebum is excruciatingly polite, almost _too_ formal, when he meets someone for the first time and Mark, with his nerves and inability to speak Korean fluently, barely opened his mouth. Months passed during which all the words Mark and Jaebum would exchange were pleasantries, and sometimes not even that. Sometimes, they would merely exchange brief nods of recognition before heading off to their separate classes or to their separate group of friends in the dining area.

 

Truthfully, it wasn’t until several months into his training, when his instructors deemed Mark worthy enough to work with Jaebum, that the two finally began to speak. It started with coordinating schedules and discussing song choices for projects and assessments. Somewhere along the way—during those late nights in the practice room, when the lights would automatically shut off as they rehearsed, when they collapsed on the floor because their shaking muscles couldn’t hold them up anymore, when they talked about their futures and their aspirations (distant things that seemed too far to touch)—they became friends.

 

They became friends and so they began to talk about deeper things, more personal things, like their frustrations and concerns. It’s surprising because both Mark and Jaebum are prone to keeping their worries to themselves and not asking for help, but for some reason, Mark finds himself opening up to this boy who was a stranger mere months ago. He discovers a comfort in talking to Jaebum that he rarely finds (doesn’t think he’s ever found, really) in people he talks to.

 

The first time Mark realizes this, it freaks him out a little. It’s partly because he doesn’t really know how this happened. Jaebum has a reputation of having a fiery temper (he’s been working on it, though) and is one of the more openly competitive trainees. People are either too intimidated or too wary of Jaebum to become close to him and maybe all of their stories about Jaebum being cutthroat got inside Mark’s head. But that isn’t the Jaebum that Mark sees. Mark’s Jaebum yearns for success and pursues it with a passion that can hardly be rivaled, but Mark’s Jaebum wouldn’t sabotage anyone to get it, even if some of the other trainees might think otherwise. Mark’s Jaebum is stern, but it isn’t because he wants to make others feel bad and shake their confidence. It’s because Jaebum has punishing standards for himself and for his peers and doesn’t rest until things are as perfect as they can possibly be. If his direction is a little bit blunt along the way, it’s just because Jaebum is anxious about getting things _right_.

 

It also freaks Mark out because he isn’t used to letting down his walls like this. He’s spent too long building and building and building because the last time he let someone in like this…. It wasn’t pretty and Mark still has nightmares about everything. He doesn’t like to think about it.

 

But with Jaebum, Mark feels safe. Jaebum lets his walls down around Mark, too. When it’s just the two of them, they let themselves be vulnerable, exposed. They let themselves break down and fall apart because they know the other person will sow them back together. And they don’t always do this with words.

 

Mark has never been the best with words, and Jaebum isn’t the greatest at expressing his deepest feelings either. So when they break down, the comfort that follows is more of a physical reassurance that, despite all of their flaws and insecurities, the other person isn’t going anywhere. Whether it’s holding him when he cries, or the encouraging actions that follow the next day (they rarely leave each other’s sides and are always there to lend a helping hand or comforting squeeze), Mark has never been more grateful for a friend (maybe something more?) like Jaebum.

 

It’s a godsend, really, because Mark gets into his own head way more than he’s comfortable ever admitting out loud. He came to Korea completely blind: he knew nothing about the Korean entertainment industry, knew no pertinent skills, knew nobody there. And then we he got to JYP, the other trainees were light years ahead of him, even the ones who came in after he did. It ate at his confidence and at his pride and even though people told him he was getting better, it was always amidst piles of critiques, so Mark could only ever see things he needed to fix, to improve on, things he was doing horribly wrong. For the longest time, for until he became friends with Jaebum, Mark would let these thoughts consume him. He wanted to reach out to someone, to ask for help, but it always felt like he was paralyzed and the words wouldn’t come out.

 

But with Jaebum, it’s different.

 

The more time they spend together, the more their actions can fill in for their words. Maybe it should be the other way around, but both Mark and Jaebum have always been more comfortable with showing how they feel than with describing it.

 

And Mark’s favorite thing is that he never has to ask. Somehow, Jaebum knows when Mark needs it most, the reassurance that he has a friend here who will help him overcome and protect him from his demons.

 

Jaebum holds him closer and the world is a little (read: a whole lot) better.

**Author's Note:**

> i love closer by the chainsmokers ok don’t judge me pls (i know the actual lyrics are "pull me closer" but like... "hold" is so much cuter)
> 
> also im super busy with uni so i wont be able to write anything as long as “terminal” for a while but if anyone wants to request a short one-shot i’d be happy to see what i can do!!


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